


When Your Dreams Fail.

by j2mslittlebitch



Series: When Your Dreams Fail. [1]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, Supernatural, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: All-Knowing Deaton, BAMF Alan Deaton, BAMF Melissa McCall, BAMF Stiles, Beta Scott McCall, Codependency, Demonic Possession, Derek backs Stiles up, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, F/F, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Melissa is an awesome fucking woman, Melissa mcCall pack mother, Non-Human Jordan Parrish, Only secondary supernatural though, POV Alternating, POV Melissa McCall, POV Multiple, Parrish is a witch too, Protective Derek, Sassy Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Is So Done, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles can exorcise those motherfuckers, Stiles is so done with all the shit, Supernatural is making an appearence, Teen Wolf centric, Werewolf Mates, Winchesters are coming to town, Witch Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j2mslittlebitch/pseuds/j2mslittlebitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after graduation, after Stiles had 'awakened' and found out he was a witch, where the innocent boy was damaged beyond repair and Derek Hale was the one to pick up the pieces and now Stiles and Derek are codependent on each other and use each other as a coping mechanism, especially after Sheriff Stilinski finds his son in the middle of a bloody slaughter and the only way to explain it is to tell him the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the world below him is shaking and shattering.

**Author's Note:**

> This story in unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own. I am writing this to try and clear the ideas out so I can get back to OYE&LHatM, which is my main fic. I just have all these ideas and they are interfering so we have When Your Dreams Fail. Tags are likely to be changed and added as it moves along, and rating is more then likely going to be raised as the story progresses.
> 
> As always, I hope you like, comment and kudos and thank you for reading.

“Dad, wait!” Stiles called, an arm reaching out to grab the Sheriff but falling short, “It’s not what you think.” Stiles was scrambling in blood, trying to righten himself to catch his father, the look of utter disappointment and horror that his dad wore, etched into his memory and he knew he would never forget. His dad had never looked at him like that, and god, Stiles hoped that he never would again.

“Son,” John halted, and spun, looking down at the blood covered boy at his feet, “don’t lie to me, I can help you. But not if you lie to me.” And again, Stiles had to look down, he couldn’t handle the look on his dad’s face.

“I’m not lying,” Stiles finally scrambled to his feet, “this wasn’t me. Well, no, part of it was me, but not the bloody part.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe the blood off and only succeeding in smudging more deep red along his brow.

“You’re the only person here,” John roared as he swiped an arm around him, motioning at the slaughter house scene surrounding him. There warehouse was large an echoing and there was at least ten dead werewolves, maybe even more, Stiles had lost count after the first three he had killed. 

It had been a shit show, Derek and his pack were just supposed to talk to this pack about trespassing on Hale territory. But it had turned into an ambush, luckily Derek had predicted that, he had had his pack practice defensive fighting and Stiles practice with defensive magic and it had saved their lives.

 

Derek was wolfed out, eyes red and fangs bared as the opposing pack closed in around him, Isaac, Malia, Scott and Ethan. Stiles was watching from above, through the glass on the sky light and he could tell shit was heading south without even hearing what was being said. He knew it was time to act when he heard Derek roar, the glass below him shaking and shattering.

Stiles jumped, falling gracefully to the warehouse floor, landing with his knee bent, eyes accessing the clusterfuck that was going on around him. He zeroed in on Derek first, forcing his magic out and paralysing one of the two wolves Derek was fighting, allowing the Alpha to end him with a swift claw across the throat.

He helped Isaac do the same then he pulled an irate beta off the blonde boys back and threw his across the warehouse and into the wall in front of him, snarling through clenched teeth as he pulled a knife from his boot and thrust it into the wolves heart. His hands shook slightly as he pulled the knife out and the body hit the ground with a damp thump. It wasn’t his first kill, far from it, but it was definitely his first hands on kill.

There was a scuffle behind him and before he could turn, he was tackled head first into the cement wall. His head reeled and stars flashed before his eyes as he tried to gather his magic, he reached out and shoved with it but barely succeeded in making the wolf flinch. He was pulled over, and he caught a glimpse of glowing red eyes, and he knew he was facing the opposing packs alpha.

He blinked rapidly, pushing his pain back and forcing himself to focus on the wolf in front of him, he leapt backwards, head smacking against the wall again as he narrowly avoided claws to the face and the alpha laughed, fangs bared.

“Look’it the little boy pretending to be a wizard.” He swiped again, this time catching Stiles chest and leaving four long gashes from shoulder to hip and he laughed as Stiles gasped and hunched over himself in pain, “not so strong when I’m right up close, are you kid?”

Stiles _knew_ how to fight, Derek had taught him months ago, when they had first realised he was something a little more than human, when they had first realised Stiles would be walking into life and death situations by Derek’s side, but somehow, that knowledge was evading him and all he could do was try and struggle to get his mind back and focus. He couldn’t protect himself with magic if he couldn’t focus and he didn’t want to die, in this crack house warehouse fighting some asshole who thought it was okay to murder masses of people. 

Stiles struck out with his hand, pushing him back with more than just his physical strength, he couldn’t focus and cast his magic about like normal but he could still _react_. The alpha didn’t fall or fly away like the beta but it gave him enough room to scramble to his feet and put some space between them; he adopted the defensive pose Derek had taught him, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the alpha powered forwards once more. Stiles dodged him one…twice…three times, before the werewolf made contact again and knocked Stiles back onto his ass.

Stiles tensed, he knew the alpha was posed for the killing strike when he heard a roar that he felt deep down in his bones and suddenly he was free. Derek catapulted the other alpha up and away from Stiles, standing between them, his back to the boy on the floor, bent forwards at the hips with his fangs bared and Stiles could see the tension in his muscles as he prepared to lunge. Stiles did what he could, pushed out the magic he could gasp and startled to other alpha enough the Derek landed the blow and neatly slit his throat.

Derek turned on Stiles and for a moment, Stiles was sure the alpha had gone feral, his eyes still glowed and he looked furious. “You. Weren’t. Supposed to be. On. The. Ground.” The words were spat out and Stiles couldn’t help but flinch. Derek shifted back to human and hauled Stiles into his arms, hugging him close and pushing his nose into Stiles’ hair.

“Dude, you’re the one who broke the glass _I was standing on_.” Stiles pushed against Derek’s damp chest to get away, knowing that the damp was sweat mixed with blood, “I could stop the fall from killing me but I can’t fucking fly!”

This time when Stiles pushed, Derek let him go and stepped back a looked Stiles’ couldn’t decipher on his face. Stiles who was now in control of his magic, turned and with a flick of his wrist assisted with the demise of the remaining three wolves. Once there was silence, Isaac cocked his head, “Sirens.”

It wasn’t unreasonable to assume a passbyer had heard the commotion and called the cops, Stiles knew his dad would be in the first car so he turned to the pack and motioned for the doors, “Go. I’ll try and explain to dad.”

As the rest of the pack started moving, Derek stopped next to Stiles and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Tell him what you need to.” And when Stiles nodded, Derek started to follow after the pack, before throwing over his shoulder, “Call me if you need too.”

 

“Werewolves?” John has his eyebrows raised and Stiles knew he definitely did not believe a word Stiles had just said. “You expect me to believe that these,” he motioned to the carnage surrounding them, “are all werewolves and you’re a … fricken witch?”

Stiles shrugged a shoulder, he had no idea what else to tell John. He should have just told him he had massacred everyone in this building and been hauled down to the sheriff station because then he wouldn’t have his dad looking at him like he belonged in Echoin House. Stiles opened his mouth, trying to figure out how to make his dad believe when Derek walked back through the door and John’s hand moved down towards his gun so fast that Stiles just reacted and struck out with his magic, freezing John’s hand before it touched his weapon and forced it up and away from the holstered gun.

John’s eyes went wide as Stiles held him still, “Dad, you understand I can’t let go of you until you calm down.” Stiles murmured it quietly, eyes downcast.

“What…?” John’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally found words, “how are you doing this? _What are you_?” The look was different now, not disappointment, more horror and fear and somehow, Stiles’ couldn’t find it within himself to care. For years he had tried and scrabbled for his father’s approval and he could never seem to get it and now, here, standing in the middle of shitstorm that Stiles had protected and saved his friends, himself and half the fucking town, his dad still couldn’t see through his stupid veil that showed Stiles as the hyper active little spaz his dad had no idea what to do with when his mother had died.

Stiles sighed, “I told you, dad. I just explained it all.”

Derek had come to stand beside Stiles, he was still and silent and Stiles leant into him, fighting off the post-magic exhaustion that always be felled him after such a strenuous use of his powers and he seen John frown as Derek lifted an arm to support him. It wasn’t the first time Derek had helped him limp out after a long training session at Deaton’s, and Stiles knew it wouldn’t be the last; the broody werewolf always seemed to be there when Stiles needed him.

Stiles was forced to release his father when he reached the end of his tether and his magic fizzled out and he sagged into Derek who was forced to put his other arm around him before he hit the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” John’s voice sounded miles away as Stiles swum in and out of consciousness and he heard Derek’s voice answer, equally as far away, “he wore himself out protecting us.”

Then everything was dark and silent.


	2. his beta & his witch

John had fought Derek every step of the way, raving on like a madman about how his son needed help and a lawyer and a fucking doctor and god help him, Derek would rip his fucking throat out if he didn’t shut up.

They were standing in a spare room of Derek’s house, the one that contained more of Stiles’ belonging than Stiles’ actual room at his dads house because after Stiles had awakened, the kid had all but moved in with him, appreciating he didn’t have to hide what he was and what he could do here like he had to at the Sheriff’s house.

Scott had called Melissa and Derek had called Deaton because they all knew that this was more than either could fix by themselves. Deaton would be needed to help the boy heal from the over use of magic and Melissa would need to stitch up his wounds. Wounds which Derek was still seething over. They had been over the plan a hundred times, Stiles was to stay on the roof and use from there, paralysing wolves and waiting for them to kill neutralized then moving on to the next but somehow he had ended up smack bang in the middle of the fucking fight, he had been forced to put down one of the wolves with his bare hands – something Derek had wanted to save the kid from, try and save the last of his innocence – and he had been forced to face down the opposing alpha without any backup and from what Derek saw, lack of magic. Stiles was a skilled witch but he was a crappy fighter, no matter how much effort they put into training, Stiles dam near broke his wrist every time he threw a punch.

Derek had nearly lost his mind when he felt Stiles’ pain and panic through the pack bond, he had ripped apart three werewolves on his way to the kid who was pinned beneath the alpha who was three times Stiles’ size and at that, Derek had let the anger take over. Derek had sworn that he would protect Stiles, he had promised him when he had showed up the night of graduation, totally wasted and sobbing about being terrified of life and magic and _everything_. That was the first night Derek had felt him become an official member of the Hale pack, it was the first time that Derek had felt him through the pack bonds.

They had sat on the balcony, wrapped around each other for warmth and nothing more, smoking cigarettes and drinking whisky until the sun had touched the horizon and Stiles had drifted off to sleep on Derek’s shoulder. It had been the first time Stiles had slept in this room and it wasn’t the last, he had started dropping around a few times a week at first, until it turned to every night and slowly he had moved in, only going home once or twice a week if John was lucky and he had never even questioned where his son was, too wrapped up in his work and his new girlfriend who Derek and Stiles hated with a passion, Derek because she smelt off and Stiles because he aurora was weird and both were enough for both men to decide she was evil.

Scott burst through the door, followed by Melissa. “Deaton is on his way, but he was on the other side of the county with a sick dog.”

Derek seen John’s eyes shoot up to Melissa, who was looking at him with a knowing look and a sad smile, “Did you know?” John’s words were soft and sounded hurt.

Melissa nodded, “Ever since the night at the Sheriff’s station with Matt. I’ve been trying to keep them out of trouble and when I can’t, I’ve been helping them out of it. When we’re finished here, I’ll take you home and answer any questions you have.”

Derek was at this moment more thankful for Melissa than anything else in existence, Derek wasn’t entire sure he wouldn’t kill the sheriff if he had to put up with anymore whining or bitching or disgust at what his son was, and even though he tried to hide it, Derek could smell it wafting off him and by the look that Scott was shooting him, so could he.

Melissa ushered Scott and John from the room, allowing only Derek to stay because when she had tried, his eyes had flashed red and he growled deep in his throat and Melissa was a smart woman, so she patted him arm and told him to stand on the other side of the bed and help hold him down if he woke up midway through the stitches.

He didn’t, which Derek wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad, considering all in all, stitching him up took three hours. Deaton arrived midway through and started burning belladonna and witch hazel in the room and throughout the house, it make Derek and Scott sneeze and for a moment Derek’s eyes started watering before he become accustomed to the strong scent.

Deaton chanted softly as he stood at Stiles’ side, a hand placed over the boy’s heart and Derek could hear Stiles’ heartbeat change and it put him on edge. Deaton must have noticed the change in Derek’s posture, the sudden tension that grabbed hold of his muscles and caused him to tremble with effort not to attack Deaton. In his head he knew the man was helping, but that didn’t convince his wolf that Deaton meant no harm.

“Derek,” Deaton said softly, slowly removing his hands from Stiles, “he’s okay, you need to calm down. If you attack me and I lose his lifeforce, he could slip into a coma and never wake up.”

Derek wrestled the wolf down and back into its chains and he seen Deaton relax a little and return to his chanting. Derek turned and pushed out the door, it was probably better he wasn’t in the same room when Deaton was hoodooing him, because although Derek had excellent control, he couldn’t cope when anyone tried to hurt Stiles, and that included members of his own pack.

 

**Seven months ago**

 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Stiles shouted at Ethan, his eyes were glowing bright gold and for a moment Derek thought he was looking into the eyes of a beta until he seen the witch powers shining through the gold with stark cold white. 

Derek had walked through the front door of the house and into a brawl between his beta and his witch and he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Ethan was beta shifted and snarling and Derek could feel the power radiating off of Stiles and for the first time, the boy actually scared him. The lessons with Deaton were obviously paying off for him to be this mad and still be in absolute control. Which he couldn’t say for Ethan who was tensed and ready to attack, Stiles raised his hands, palms up and threw magic out at Ethan, causing the beta to fall back a step and angering him even more.

“What do you know about anything, you stupid boy?” Ethan growled, “What have you lost? What have you ever had to fight for?”

Stiles roared and it sounded so wolf like that Derek flinched, “ _I have lost everything_. I fought for you and your stupid pack, I fought for him and protected him,” Stiles spun on Derek, pointing at him and the magic radiating off Stiles forced Derek back a step, “I fought for my father and I fought for Scott and I lost everything because of it. So you … you have no fucking idea what I’ve done or what I’m capable of.”

This time Ethan surged forwards, growling and snarling and Derek beta shifted, dropped his keys and phone and surged forwards, grabbing Ethan by the throat and slamming him backwards into the floor, hard enough to make the foundations of the house rattle. Ethan fought forwards, not used to being a beta and fighting the urge to submit with the rage of an alpha.

Stiles stepped up to Derek’s shoulder, placed a hand on his back and hauled him back off the beta with strength the boy shouldn’t be able to possess, Derek glanced up at him and he barely knew the boy he saw. Stiles’ face was twisted in rage and his eyes were still glowing, “This is my fight, get out of the way.”

For the first time, Derek listened to the boy and stepped backwards, bowing out with his head down. He wasn’t going to leave the room, because while Stiles could protect himself, he was also likely to cause the entire house to implode with the power he was harnessing at the moment.

Ethan staggered to his feet, anger obviously deflated and contrite at being restrained by his alpha and now the fight had gone out of him because with a quick glance in Stiles’ direction, he shuffled out of the room.

Stiles turned on Derek, still furious and obviously looking for a fight, “I can protect myself, I don’t need you to do it for me.”

Derek cocked his head, trying to let the words slide off and not take them to heart because yes, Derek did need Stiles, had for a very long time. “I don’t want conflict within my pack. I cannot allow either of you to brawl within this house. What kind of alpha would that make me?”

Stiles was quiet for a moment, “You shouldn’t have stepped in, now they will think I need you to protect me.”

Derek’s laugh was hollow and he couldn’t help but to feel relieved that Stiles’ eyes were back in place of his witch glow, “I don’t think anyone will think that. C’mere.” Derek opened arms and he smiled genuinely when Stiles rushed into them.

 

**Present**

“Derek…” Derek turned to see Melissa walk through the door and out onto the balcony. “He’ll be fine now, he’ll be sore as hell when he wakes up but he’ll be alive.” Derek nodded and tried for a smile but only achieved a grimace, “Derek, I know how you feel about him, but you can’t lose yourself in him, if you do, you know I’ll have to tell Chris. Deaton told me what happened in that room.” She was silent for a moment, “Is he your mate?”

Derek tensed and frowned, that was a question he wasn’t even ready to ask himself. “I don’t know, but I know I’d lose it if something happened to him.”

At his words, Melissa smiled and stepped forwards, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight with a knowing smile, “Don’t worry, sweetie, I know that feeling.”


	3. our flesh & blood

Melissa had known for some time that something was going on between Derek and Stiles, even if they didn’t know themselves. She had also known that John Stilinski had absolutely no idea what was going on in the life of his son. She had often questioned Scott to what he knew about that situation, but he just shrugged her off saying that Stiles didn’t like to talk about it and Melissa knew well enough what that meant.

John was sitting in her passenger seat silently and Melissa knew his head was reeling, just the same as what hers had that night years ago in the Sheriff’s station when the Kanima had cornered her in the cell and Scott had charged in to protect her, beta shifted. She had been terrified of her son in that moment and terrified for him once she heard the full story. She had been shocked at their bravery and their efforts to protect the people they loved.

John was still silent when she pulled the car into his driveway, and when she opened the front door and ushered him into the dining room. She had been in this house enough times before to know where everything is kept, so she readied them both a cup of coffee before sitting opposite him at the table.

“John, I know it’s a shock…” Melissa started before John interrupted her.

“This is madness, Melissa and the fact that you are enabling them,” John snapped, “They need help. What kind of joke are they playing?”

Melissa wasn’t even sure how to respond to him, the words her spat were full of anger and denial and Melissa had never heard John sound like that before and she didn’t know what to say. “John, this isn’t some kind of game. What they told you, it’s all true.”

“You mean what my son told me, who thinks he’s a witch and all his friends are werewolves.” John shook his head and stood so fast the chair scraped across the floor then fell over backwards, “Are you all mad?”

Melissa’s temper reached the end of its tether and she stood too, “John, this is our children you’re talking about. Our flesh and blood. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” John scoffed, pointing at himself, “What’s wrong with _me_? What the fuck is wrong with you? Letting them carry on with this sick joke, you’ve been going along with it for three years.”

“This isn’t a game or a joke, John,” Melissa spoke softly now, “These kids are out there every day trying to protect this town, same as what you do.” She cocked her head and smirked, “Actually, I think they are doing a better job.”

John glared at her and she glared back, they were so locked in their stalemate that neither of them heard the front door open or noticed Deputy Jordan Parrish walk through into the dining room, until he cleared his throat.

“Scott called me, said you might need some help,” Parrish murmured to Melissa and while she smiled at him, John frowned deeply.

“You’re in on this joke too?” John looked shocked at the thought of someone in his trusted circle caught up in this madness. “Is this some big trick that you’re playing on me?”

Parrish shook his head, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and they were a warm, glowing orange and Melissa seen John do a double take. Melissa didn’t blame him, Parrish had only just found out he came from a long line of witches, and was infact one himself.

“I’m the same as Stiles, well, almost.” Parrish grinned a little, “He’s a lot more powerful than me and he’s had more training. You should be proud of your son, John, he and Derek have played a big part in keeping this town safe.”

John snorted, “What have they done about the string of animal attacks that have left ten people dead and three in ICU?”

“What do you think you walked in on tonight?” Parrish questioned, “It was a rival pack trying to steal Hale territory. They killed those people in hopes of scaring the pack into rolling over and submitting and when the Hale pack went to speak to them, they were ambushed. Stiles played a big part in making sure the threat was neutralized. And you’re a fool if you believe otherwise.” Parrish cocked his head for a moment and smiled, “He’s awake, I need to go and be with him and Derek.”

“Wait,” John almost shouted as Parrish turned to leave, “Why do you need to be with him? And what the hell is going on between my son and Derek Hale?”

Parrish blinked at John as if he were an imbecile, “Because Stiles is the head of my coven, me being there will help the healing process and like werewolves, we are tactile creatures and love being surrounded by our own. As for Stiles and Derek, I suggest that is a question best saved for them.” And then he was gone.

Melissa walked around the table and placed a hand on John’s shoulder, “Do you want to come back to the Hale House? Be there for them?”

“I…” John scrubbed a hand over his face, “yeah, I – sure. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update about Melissa and Parrish putting John in his place.  
> Hope you enjoyed some BAMF Melissa :)


	4. every legion, every adversary

Derek felt Stiles start stirring from the balcony where he had stayed after Melissa left, taking John with her. He’d been out here pondering her words. _Is he your mate?_ She had asked. He knew they had a deeper bond then just pack bonds but he had never questioned whether or not that it may have been a mate bond, he had just chalked it up to them being so close and almost co-dependant on each other after all the terrible things that had happened to them when they were younger.

“Derek,” Isaac was calling from the doorway of his room, “he’s waking up.”

Derek climbed through the balcony doors and followed the young beta out of the room, Derek knew Isaac was just as effected was what he and Stiles were, but he seemed to deal with it better, maybe he learnt to deal with shitty things when he’s dad had started locking him in a freezer in their basement as punishment – maybe that had prepared him for the werewolf life full of death and loss and pain.

Stiles was barely awake when they walked through the door into his room, his eyelashes were fluttering and his hands were tensed into fists in the sheets. Deaton had told them the first time Stiles had over used, that waking up was like coming down from a bad trip, that his subconscious would drag him through the hell of his worst nightmares before finally allowing him to wake.

Derek was grateful when Parrish and Lydia walked through the door hand in hand, followed by Malia, Ethan and Scott, it always seemed easier on the young witch if he was surrounded by his entire pack. He almost didn’t believe it when he heard Melissa and John walk through the front door and up the stairs, talking quietly. He could hear Melissa explaining that this was hard on Stiles, that waking up from this was a terrible ordeal and it helped having everyone around him to ground him when he woke up.

When they walked through the bedroom door, Derek swung on John and snarled, “You don’t get to be here if you are going to carry on with your bullshit, Stiles needs us to keep him grounded when he wakes, not make him feel defensive.”

John’s eyes widen, “No, I –” he was flailing for words before he pointed at Melissa and Parrish, “They showed … told me, I’m not sure I believe but he’s my son.” He glanced down, then back up at Derek, “What happens if he’s not grounded when he wakes up?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “He’ll kill us all.”

It took twenty full minutes for Stiles to come around, and when he did Derek was on his knees next to the bed, resting his forehead on the comforter and a hand over Stiles’ heart so he could feel it beating and so he could convince his wolf that Stiles was alive.

Compared the what Derek had John believing, the whole situation was a little anti-climactic until Peter Hale burst through the door, bleeding and sweating and panting and carrying a very unconscious woman. She was bound and gagged with red rope, which looked somehow special with tiny symbols carved into it. 

Stiles was shooting up out of bed, grimacing as he moved but he pushed away Parrish’s hand and stood on his own, “Where did you find her?”

Obviously everyone knew who she was other than John because he had no fucking idea.

Peter snarled at the house full of people and dumped the woman on the bed in front of Stiles and hissed, “ _Abaddon._ ”

Stiles frowned and shook his head, “No, that’s not possible; she’s been in hiding for years, especially after that fucking episode with the Winchesters. She’s in deep cover now.”

But even as he said it, he knew it was her, he could feel it deep in the back of his mind. He spun to Derek, “You two need to take her downstairs and secure her, don’t leave her alone at all! Don’t … just don’t. Devils traps _and_ salt. We can’t risk her escape.”

Peter hauled Abaddon up again but Derek turned to Stiles, “You’re too weak, you only just recovered from last night in the warehouse, you haven’t even eaten.”

Stiles blinked up at him before nodding, “Okay, we’ll go get something to eat, Scott can you help Peter please.” Scott nodded and took off out the door after the other werewolf who was carrying the demon down the basement stairs.

The rest of the pack moved out of the room and down into the kitchen, while Derek and Stiles disappeared into Stiles’ room. Derek sat on the bed, watching the boy move with the learnt grace of a witch, while Stiles moved around and got changed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a tight black Henley.

Derek reached out and grabbed his wrist as he passed, fingers curling around the pulse point and pulling him in close enough for Derek to push his nose into Stiles stomach, “I don’t like this. You haven’t even gotten a good night’s sleep from your last hit. Surely we could keep her contained until you recover a little.”

Stiles buried his hands into Derek’s hair, “I know, I don’t either but she’s strong Derek, she’s the first Knight of Hell, she is definitely not something we can stick in the devils trap and leave for a few days, she’s not like the rest. She _rules_ them. They will come looking for her. I can exorcise a few demons at once but not an entire army. We have to do it while we have the chance.” Stiles dropped down to his knees in front of Derek, “If it makes you feel better, call up the Winchesters, they might be around somewhere close.”

Derek nodded and reached for his phone as Stiles rubbed his nose along the column of Derek’s throat before standing and walking out the door. Derek dialled the last number that they had gotten of Dean and it beeped straight to his message bank, “ _Leave your name, number and nightmare after the beep.”_

 

By the time Derek had made his way into the basement, they had the demon tied down and contained within a devils trap and a circle of salt. The fear in the room was tangible and Derek was already itchy with it. He could hear the pack, murmuring in low voices about the young woman they had strapped down in here. They had never seen anything as strong as this demon, they only ever dealt with low level black eyes demon who thought they could make it topside, enough that both Derek and Stiles had become proficient at performing exorcisms, but this, this one was different. Derek could _feel_ it. Anything with this much power was normally delivered straight to the Winchesters.

Stiles was standing in the centre of the room, a small silver cross in one hand and a lit cigarette and a Rockstar energy drink in the other. He took a deep drag, his eyes never leaving the woman who was so far unconscious and Derek knew these things went smoother if they stayed that way but they rarely did. 

Stiles dropped the cigarette and smothered it with the toe of his boot and downed the rest of his can before tossing it into the trash bin next to his desk, before turning to Derek, “You know your lines?”

“Yeah.” Derek nodded, he shouldn’t be nervous, they had done this countless times but this time he knew was going to be harder. The demon was older and stronger than anything they had ever dealt with before. She was a Knight of Hell and she was a force to be reckoned with. The Winchesters still hadn’t gotten back to Derek so he knew he was going to have to back up Stiles and let the boy do his worst. He was good, he knew the process and had the power to throw in behind it, but he wasn’t a professional exorcist. 

Stiles took a deep breath and bowed his head, murmuring, “Jesus Christ, I repent my sins and pray for forgiveness. In the name of the father,” he touched his forehead, “Son,” he touched his heart, “and the holy,” he touched one shoulder, “Spirit,” and then he touched the other, “I thank you for this forgiveness and pray you guide me throughout this life time. Amen.”

Stiles raised the crucifix towards the demon, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, I pray for the forgiveness of Abaddon’s sins, I pray she is welcomed into Heaven.” The woman woke then, startling Derek into taking a step backwards, but he never took his eyes off the pair. “ _Exorcizamus tem omnis immundus spiritus_ ” the woman was laughing now, her eyes wild but Stiles never paused, “ _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congergatio et secta diabolica._ ”

Stiles paused and waited for Derek to murmur, “May the lord be with you.”

“You think you can send me back to hell?” The woman cackled, “You couldn’t even save your friends from themselves, you couldn’t even save them from _you_. What makes you think you can save them from me?”

Derek knew the rules, they weren’t to engage in useless banter with the demons, they were often mind readers and could see deep down in the dark corners of your soul, where your darkest regrets were hidden but you could compel them into silence. Derek stepped forwards and raised his hands and performed the sign of the cross in the air above the demon, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I compel you into silence.” 

Small lacerations started appearing on the woman’s pale skin in retaliation to Derek’s orders, blood beading on her forehead and dripping down into her eyes that were suddenly scared and very human. Derek knew it was just a trick, that the black eyed son of a bitch riding her was scared that Stiles and himself may actually be able to send her back to hell so she was pulling at their heart strings, unfortunately for her, neither of them had any.

Stiles started speaking again, “ _Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolicam adjuramus te…_ ” the furniture around them started to shiver and shake and from nowhere, a gale started blowing, papers blowing from the desk that then toppled over, all the while, Stiles continued on in Latin until Derek heard him roar, “THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU FROM THIS WOMAN OF GOD AND BACK INTO THE DEPTHS OF HELL…”

The woman screamed, the walls quaked and cracked, Stiles was forced back and would have been thrown off his feet had Derek not caught him and held him upright while he brandished the crucifix like it was a loaded gun. The woman’s mouth opened wide in a silent scream as black smoke poured from her lips before lighting up and glowing bright orange as it seeped through the floor.

As soon as there was silence, Scott charged over, grabbing the woman and hauling her upright and Derek knew he was running her upstairs and out the door to the waiting car so they could take her straight to the hospital. He was closely followed by Parrish who ran in and bent slightly, throwing Stiles’ other arm over his shoulder and both men helped Stiles limp out of the basement and up the stairs and into the lounge room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exorcism used in this, is a few different ones mixed into one, a little bit of Jewish lore, mixed in the Christian, mixed in with my head cannon, mixed in with Constantine. I've added tags, and changed the direction of this a little and I hope you are still enjoying it.


	5. welcome winchesters.

Stiles slept for 36 straight hours, completely worn out by the massive amounts of energy expelled at the warehouse and the exorcism. Derek guarded the door, eyes flashing red and teeth bared whenever someone tried to open the door and, in the packs defence, they stopped trying when Scott found himself thrown against the wall hard enough to crack plaster. Derek only left for long enough to retrieve more witch hazel and belladonna to keep burning in Stiles’ room as per Deaton’s instructions.

“Derek,” Isaac jumped up the stairs, bypassing the top five to land on the landing and skidded around the hall to find Derek. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes and he pushed it back absently, “Someone’s here for you.”

Derek shook his head and motioned towards Stiles’ shut door, “I’m busy, tell them to come back later.” 

“Uh uh,” Isaac shoved Derek in the direction of the steps, “Everyone know not to wake him because of his crazy, over protective Alpha and I promise you, you don’t wanna miss this.”

Derek sighed and with a last look over his shoulder to the firmly shut door, complied with the annoying betas orders. Isaac kept shoving at him, until he dropped down the last two stairs and fell around the corner into the lounge room, where three men sat. Derek knew who they were; he’d met them in passing last time they had come to Beacon Hills hunting Peter.

“Hale,” Dean Winchester said from where he was lounging back on the couch, dressed in his typical denim and leather, “I got your message.”

Derek shrugged a shoulder, “We’ve taken care of it.”

The taller Winchester snorted, “Abaddon? Who do you have powerful enough to take down Abaddon?”

“Me,” came the faint reply from the doorway, where a sleep ruffled but thoroughly rested Stiles stood, still wearing only his Spongebob boxers and the Henley that he had fallen into bed in after the exorcism.

All eyes in the room turned to Stiles and Dean smirked, “You?’

Stiles raised an eyebrow and stepped up to Derek’s side, touching a hand to his wrist before replying, “Yes, Winchester, me. Things have changed a bit since we last met, for both of us it would appear. Don’t think for a moment I can’t see straight through the act you’re putting on right now.”

The third man stepped up, one none of them had met, “You are nothing but a child, Dean Winchester has saved the world many times over. You’ll do well to show him some respect.”

This time Stiles snorted, “With all due respect, you guys showed up at _my_ house, walked in and woke _me_ up after I wore myself out defending a Knight of Hell and cleaning up your messes. So fuck you.”

Dean slowly stood, his eyes narrowing, “Listen kid, we came here to help, not argue.”

“Then help.” Stiles replied simply before turning on his heel and walking from the room.

“He’s been through a bit, we had a werewolf problem then we had the Abaddon thing, he’s used a lot over the last twenty four hours.” Derek motioned for them to follow Stiles into the kitchen, where they found him leaning against the counter drinking an energy drink. Derek narrowed his eyes, “You know I hate it when you drink those, your heart beat,” he wrinkled his nose and shook his head; Stiles deserved a treat after the last two days.

Stiles flipped him off while taking a big gulp and smirking, “Ease up, your Alpha is showing.”

That caught Sam Winchester’s attention, “Your Alpha? Last time we were here, you were a beta. You were to follow our rules so we didn’t have to gank you.”

 _Thanks Stiles,_ Derek forced through their bond and just received another smirk for his efforts. “I took care of a mutual problem.”

“I’d say that was me,” Peter waltzed into the room, eyes flickering from one man to the next with a sneer on his face, “Derek slit my throat, took my power, then the banshee raised me from the dead and well, here we all are.” He raised an eyebrow at Stiles, “Why are you wearing Spongebob boxers?”

“Banshee?” Dean questioned, frowning, “raised you… wait, what?”

Stiles snorted, “Don’t act like you’ve never been raised from the dead, like I said I can see straight through the façade.”

The dark haired stranger in the beige trench coat stepped forwards and in front of Dean protectively but this time, Dean grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, “This is Castiel, an angel of the lord.”

Castiel dropped his chin down to his chest bashfully, “Not really an angel anymore, Dean.”

Peter watched the exchange with a horrified look on his face, “Listen, I cannot handle so much gay in one house. First up these two,” he motioned between Stiles and Derek, “then you two. What the hell are you even doing here?”

Stiles straightened up and glared at the blue eyed beta, “Hey, we are … well, not gay … although.”

Derek pushed a hand up against Stiles’ lips, “You can stop now. Peter stop stirring shit, what are you even doing here? I thought you were out of town.”

“I was,” Peter drawled, “Until I got jumped by Abaddon and her crew. I barely made it out alive, I hauled ass here to deliver her and so I was here with pack so I could heal. Abaddon threw about four demons at me before she tried her luck. Which explained the,” he waved his hand up and down his torso referencing to where the slashes had been. “But that doesn’t explain them.”

“I called them,” Derek murmured, “I was worried Stiles couldn’t handle Abaddon after the warehouse – which you were absent from, mind you. We could have used your help, Peter.”

Peter gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes, “Yes, padre, next time I’ll be home before curfew.”

Sam cleared his throat, “Um, we don’t really need to hear you’re pack domestics, we just wanted to let you know we’ll be in town for a bit. It seems there is a lot of demon activity around here right now. We’re going to try and clean some of it up for you.”

Stiles cocked his head and smiled slightly, just before Parrish walked through the door, dressed in his deputy uniform. Derek knew the two witches had a sibling like relationship; they understood each other and helped each other. Stiles had been training Parrish, helping him learn and although he wasn’t quite as powerful as Stiles, he was learning quickly.

Parrish walked straight up to Stiles and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug and rubbing his nose along Stiles hair line, like a giant cat and Stiles grinned, pushing a hand into Parrish’s hair before they pulled apart.

“Hey. Der- ” Parrish stuttered to stop, looking around at the strangers in the kitchen then down at Stiles in his boxers, “I’m not sure if I even wanna know, I just thought you guys might like to know that we just had to arrest Chris Argent.”

“What?” Derek asked, his eyes shifting from Parrish to Stiles, “Did you know he was back?” 

Stiles shook his head, “I never even felt him cross back into our territory. It could have been while I was down and out.” Stiles turned towards the door that led into the backyard and bellowed, “Isaac, dude, Chris is back.”

It only took seconds for Isaac to fly through the door and run head first into Parrish, “You… what?”

Derek silenced the two boys with a glare and turned back to Parrish, “Why’d you arrest him?”

Parrish wrinkled his nose, and glanced in the Winchesters direction, “It’s kinda pack business.”

“Oh,” Sam nodded and motioned for Castiel and Dean to climb to their feet, “We’re staying at the motel in town, call us tomorrow sometime and we can organise to meet and go over our notes.”

Derek shrugged a shoulder, “We don’t really have notes or research, we are more of a wing it kind of pack.”

Dean laughed, “Dude, Sam is like a research freak. He gets off on it, keeps his laptop under his bed next to his KY.”

Sam flinched and blushed pink to the tips of his ears before he hissed, “Dude, stop.”

Derek turned to Peter, “Can you show them out please?”

When the three men walked out with Peter, Derek and Isaac turned back to Parrish while Stiles busied himself pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Really,” Derek barked, “first energy drink and now coffee. I don’t like the way it makes your heart sound.”

Stiles turned and gave him a brilliant grin, “Listen, I deserve it. I’m exhausted after the last week.”

“Stiles, that ship sailed along with the 36 hours you just slept. Stop with the caffeine.” Derek snapped, “Do you want to give yourself a heart attack?”

Parrish interrupted the exchange when he cleared his throat, “Chris Argent, sitting in my cell. Remember?” All three men in the room turned to Parrish then, “He was arrested on drunk and disorderly and assault charges. He showed up drunk in town this morning and went out to Allison’s grave, caused a stir out there when he found some local kids vandalizing a few grave stones. We had to arrest them all, he was rotten drunk when I hauled him in. He needs bail.”

“How much?” Stiles and Derek asked at the same time.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Shit,” Stiles swore, “why so steep?”

“He broke Hughes’ nose and smashed a window a cruiser when we tried to bring him in. I didn’t want to arrest him, I was just going to bring him out here until he did that. But you know the rules.” Parrish shrugged apologetically.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Derek murmured, “I’ll find my cheque book and follow you to the station.”


	6. it’s been a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels a little disjointed and weird to me, but my beta readers liked it so here it is.  
> It's a lot of dialogue, and some background into Stiles and Derek's crazy relationship, I thought it needed further explanation.   
> As always, I really appreciate feedback - it's what keeps me going :)

Derek and Stiles had a unique relationship, they were volatile and loving and mean and passionate. They tried to hide it from the pack, but they all knew, it radiated off them every minute of every day. They travelled a lot, going out of town to help other packs sort out disputes, they helped track down feral werewolves and other supernaturals, bringing them back for justice or vengeance, which ever caught up first.

They had been known to rag on each other, fight with each other, and hold each other or stop and fuck, quick and dirty in the back of the Camaro or in a cheap hotel room. Nothing about their relationship was peaceful or straightforward, but neither of them cared, as long as they had each other. 

They had been thrown together when Stiles was barely seventeen, fighting the Kanima, Alpha pack and the Darach, standing up to demons and vampires and other supernaturals that started crawling out of the wood work, until the Nogitsune made its appearance, taking possession of Stiles’ mind and then his body. It had made him do terrible things, things that Derek knew Stiles still had nightmares about. But then, the Nogitsune had split and taken form as Stiles. It had taken them days to find out how to kill the Void, then even longer to finally put the plan in motion.

Stiles had pulled away from all his friends after that, still suffering from the guilt that he had caused Allison and Aiden’s deaths, because he was too weak to fight off the Nogitsune. Derek had found him after a distressed phone call, curled up in the back of his jeep, sobbing Allison’s name with an empty syringe in his hand. It was the first time Derek had found Stiles high and tripping, but it wasn’t the last. His drug of choice was LSD, although he would take what he could, and although Derek disagreed with drug use, Derek could never turn Stiles away. The drug use was less common now, he occasionally smelt of pot and popped a pill here or there, normally speed to help with energy when performing difficult magic or working long hours when he and Derek were away. It didn’t mix well with his ADD but everyone had their coping methods.

The only thing that Derek appreciated about the highs was the sex. Stiles had a healthy libido at the best of times, but he got mean and he fought dirty when he was high, and the sex was rough and amazing and Derek could never say ‘no’. The first time they had pulled into a sleazy motel that had charged by the hour, they had fallen through the door, smashing into furniture and tasting blood before falling on the bed. Derek had seen twelve hundred dollars charged to his credit card for damages twenty four hours after leaving the place.

On Stiles’ nineteenth birthday after Derek had put his foot down and refused to let Stiles use to preform magic, they had been called away to a neighbouring territory where Stiles had been left to defend himself and exorcise four demon by himself and Derek had found him near death on the floor of the apartment where he was supposed to be safe. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he had force fed him vampire blood to bring him back, then happily handed back his LSD and speed.

As Stiles learnt to control his magic and expel less energy, the drug use lessened and as he and Derek started spending more time together and falling asleep in each other’s arms and the nightmares decreased, so did the need for Stiles to medicate to sleep. So slowly Stiles exchanged speed and LSD for coffee and energy drinks and constant highs for the occasional joint on the balcony after sex. He was never quite clean though, Derek had gotten used to smelling Stiles, manufactured drugs and himself all mixed together to create something uniquely Stiles.

 

So honestly, finding Stiles naked wrapped in nothing but a sheet on Derek’s bed, sweating and delirious three days after they had bailed Chris Argent out of jail and brought him back to the house, only for the older hunter to accuse Stiles of murdering Allison, was not a bit of a surprise. Derek had been afraid of that, had been wary of bringing Chris back here but Parrish had requested it, telling the werewolf that if Chris got arrested again he would be looking at jail time and Derek owed him too much to let him get thrown in jail.

“Stiles,” Derek murmured as he pushed the bedroom door closed behind him. He stepped over the tangle of clothing on the floor and over to the bed, “Stiles, baby.”

Stiles muttered nonsense under his breath and reached out for Derek, and he went, falling into Stiles arms and onto the bed. Derek knew what was coming before Stiles even touched him; it was the same thing that happened whenever Stiles had injected LSD. Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s throat, hands flailing and frantic at his fly. Derek pushed the younger man’s shaking hands back and pulled the buttons open and shimmed out of his jeans and boxers himself. They landed on the floor next to Stiles’ clothes.

Stiles pushed down the bed, dragging his nails down Derek’s rib cage. He could feel Stiles’ hot breathe over his stomach as Stiles pressed his lips to his abdomen and down his belly. He took Derek’s cock in one hand while he propped himself above him with the other. Stiles was looking up through his lashes at Derek, eyes unfocused and glowing gold with his power reacting with the drugs.

“Derek…” And then Chris was pushing the bedroom door open. Derek managed to pull Stiles up and cover them both with a sheet using his werewolf speed, before Chris stepped in though.

Chris halted on the threshold, seeing the pair in bed and the clothes on the floor. His eyes went particularly wide when he took in Stiles, who was now fighting against Derek’s grip to get free and return to the promised blowjob. Derek needed it too, he could feel the bond pulling at him, could feel Stiles’ need pulsing in the back of his mind and before he knew it, his eyes were flashing red and he was snarling at Chris who faltered back a step and Stiles slammed and locked the door open a flourish of one hand.

Derek pulled Stiles up and over him and growled as he slithered back down to grip his cock once more, he barely muffled the groan that forced its way through his lips when Stiles’ warm mouth enclosed his cock.

It was quick, rough and dirty and it left both of them empty and satisfied and Derek didn’t want to leave Stiles in the bed, but he knew Stiles wouldn’t be up and about for hours yet and Derek knew he probably should go and see what Argent had wanted, other than cock block him.

He climbed out of bed, pulling the blankets up and over Stiles’ sleeping form before pulling his boxers and jeans back on. He didn’t have time to shower and he knew the pack would be able to smell the sex on him but he just couldn’t make himself care today.

When he walked into the kitchen where Chris was sitting with Isaac, Derek noticed Isaac’s nose wrinkle and Derek smirked at him. He dropped into the seat opposite Chris and slouched back.

“Is Stiles okay?” Chris asked honestly, “he didn’t look very well.”

Derek kicked Isaac under the table when he snorted before answering Chris, “He’s… uh, hurt by what you said and he’s coping best he can.”

Chris frowned, “He uses?”

Derek shrugged a shoulder, it was really none of Chris’ business what the kid did, especially after he split three days after Allison’s funeral and hadn’t looked back. He had left all those teenagers, broken and damaged and just disappeared. He hadn’t understood that he wasn’t the only one who lost Allison, Derek wasn’t sure he did even now.

“Derek,” Chris was serious, “he’s a kid, you need to tell his dad or get him into rehab or something. It’s serious. If the boy is using then he’s a danger to himself.”

Derek sat up a little straighter and Isaac tensed at the change of atmosphere.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek snarled, hands gripping the side of the table to keep the wolf at bay, “He is coping the best he can, you have no idea what we live through every single day. You think _your_ life was hard, hunting werewolves? We hunt _everything_ , we protect humans from _everything_. Stiles wears himself out on a daily basis trying to protect everyone, do you know how many times I’ve dragged him out of situations that would have resulted in a fucking war, if not for us? How many demons we’ve exorcised out of innocent people? How many vampires we’ve put down to save civilians? We’ve dealt with things that aren’t even written in your precious beastiary. Don’t you tell me he’s a danger to himself and don’t tell me how to look after him. I’ve been looking after him for four years now, better then what his own fucking dad has.” Derek stood abruptly, his chair scrapping and falling over backwards, “Don’t you come into _my_ house and disrespect _my_ mate. You don’t get to do that. You are a guest here, and you can wear out your welcome.”

Parrish froze on the way into the kitchen as Derek wound down, and both Chris and Isaac were staring opened mouth at the alpha that stood before them with his eyes glowing.

“Derek?” Parrish stepped into the kitchen hesitantly, “Is everything okay? I could feel Stiles projecting from the Sheriff’s station. And wait, did you just call him your mate?”

Derek’s eyes shifted from Chris to the Deputy and snarled, he’d already said too much in his outburst. Stiles emotions had a habit of rubbing off on him and when Stiles projected, everyone in the pack felt it, Derek most of all. 

So Derek did what did best and ran, straight out the backdoor, shifting mid-leap, out into the woods surrounding the house. Parrish glanced between the two men with raised eyebrows and while Chris looked speechless, Isaac smirked, “Dude, it’s been a long time coming.”

“I don’t understand,” Chris murmured, “I know I said some things when I got here the other night, I know I shouldn’t have said them and I don’t have any excuses, I don’t even know why I’m back here. But all I did was express concern for the kid.”

Parrish shrugged, “Stiles is upstairs?”

Isaac nodded but grabbed his arm, “I probably wouldn’t go up there. Derek came for smelling of sex and drugs. It’s been one of _those_ days.”

“Oh,” Parrish fell into one of the kitchen chairs, “Yeah, you’re probably right. My guess is sleeping it off.”

Chris stood, “Why are you guys so calm about this? Derek and Stiles are fucking, Stiles is using, they are using each other. Co-dependency is a dangerous coping method. If you take one away, the other can’t function.”

“We know,” Isaac murmured, “But it’s been hell here, Chris, this place. Since you left, Deaton’s predictions came true. All sorts of supernatural things have been slithering out from every rock and every hollow stump. I’m not gunna lie, I think if they didn’t have each other, they’d both be dead by now.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I haven’t been around as long,” Parrish answered, “but the changes in them as they grew closer. They are more grounded, less likely to take stupid risks. The amount of times I’ve found those boys at the centre of something crazy,” Parrish shook his head, “They _care_ now, they have something to live for.

When you left, I got a call out one night. John was out of town for a conference, so I took it. Stiles’ jeep was parked out near the preserve and when I got out there, Derek had just turned up. He was holding Stiles and Stiles was bordering hysterical, he was sobbing Allison’s name over and over again. It went against my instincts, which I later found out was because Stiles was projecting, but I had to investigate every call. I seen the syringe and back then, I didn’t really know them so I had to search the vehicle to make sure there was no more. That was the strongest I have ever seen Derek be, he held Stiles for hours, I sat with them until dawn, when I got another call.”

“He wanted to OD,” Isaac murmured, “After the Nogitsune, Stiles was bordering suicidal. He wouldn’t tell his dad, he didn’t even tell us but we _felt_ it, because he was projecting and when Stiles projects, everyone is affected, although Deaton has taught him to control it a little now. He still blames himself. He still has nightmares, I hear them, my room is between his and Derek’s, so no matter where he sleeps, I hear it.”

Chris dropped his head into his hands, “And I waltzed into his safe haven and brought it all up again.”

“I don’t think it ever went away,” Parrish murmured, “You just rubbed salt into an open wound.”

Chris laughed humourlessly, “Because that’s so much better.”


	7. then this happened...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for the delay in updates. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit all over the place, just a filler basically before we actually get the plot. Which, when we finally do, it will be amazing and be worth the wait.
> 
> Anyway, kudos and feedback are always welcome and as always, I hope you're enjoying the ride.
> 
> xx

Derek padded into the house a little before dusk, still in his full wolf form, striding passed the pack and Chris in the lounge room and upstairs to his mate, still very obviously unwilling to talk to anyone about his outburst.

He was upstairs for a moment when Scott cocked his head and said to Chris, “Stiles wants to see you upstairs in the study.”

Chris nodded and stood, he walked directly up the stairs and into the room Stiles uses for his research. The boy looked worlds better than when Chris had walked in on him this morning. He was sitting shirtless, wearing only sweats with his feet bare, tapping away at the laptop in front of him. Derek was curled up at his feet, his nose resting on his tail and he opened one eye when Chris appeared but didn’t move otherwise. Chris hovered in the doorway and never entered until Stiles waved him in without looking from the screen.

Chris sat on one of the arm chairs and tried not to fidget, Stiles was silent for a couple of minutes before turning and facing Chris, his eyes were dry but there was dark circles under his eyes and he looked tired… exhausted to be honest.

“It’s not fair that you blame me for what happened.” Stiles’ voice was strong as he spoke. “I lost a friend too; I lost a pack member too. We all did. You got to leave, Chris. You got to run, we had to stay and fight and we fight every. Single. Day. Sometimes it feels like we are pushing shit up a hill but we still keep going.”

Chris nodded, “I don’t blame you, Stiles, I never did. I just needed someone to point my finger at and I guess you were the best person. And you’re right, it wasn’t fair –”

“It was hard when you left, I blamed myself too. I wanted to die. In fact, I tried to off myself a couple of times. I threw myself into this life hoping that I’d get killed, then this thing happened,” he nudged Derek with his foot, who lifted a lip and snarled, “Yeah, righto, fluffy. Anyway, I need you to understand, things have changed while you were away. You don’t run this territory, I do.” Derek snarled again, “Well _we_ do. You don’t get to come back and start trying to run this show. We have rules and we have a way we do things. We protect this territory and its surrounds. People come to us now.”

Chris nodded, “Okay, I can accept that.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “Can you?”

Chris’ lips curled into something of a smile, “I can try.”

Before Stiles could open his mouth to reply, his phone started blaring out _Highway to Hell_ and Stiles snatched it up off the desk and answered it. Chris listened to the one sided conversation shamelessly.

“Speaking…yeah, downtown?... no I haven’t seen anything, I’ve been indisposed. No… I don’t know, I haven’t spoken to him. I don’t really want to… yeah you can… yeah same number… Dude, no.. nah… that’s a really terrible idea, I’m in. Yeah, we can come in. I’ll meet you there. Yeah.. okay… yeah. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and stood so fast, he startled the snoozing ‘wolf and Chris. “Let’s go kids, we’ve got a case.” He nudged the ‘wolf with his foot as he stretched out with his front paws planted in front of Stile’ feet, “You stayin’ four legged?”

The ‘wolf seemed to grumble but stalked from the room, Stiles turned to Chris with a small smile, “Do you want a taste of our life?” Before walking out of the room, Chris could hear him calling out over the staircase, “Winchesters called, they got something for me. I’m taking Derek and Chris, you guys hang out here, but stay together incase I need backup.” Then he disappeared after the wolf into their room.

They remerged several moments later, dressed in denim and leather. Stiles’ jacket slipped back, revealing a shoulder holster loaded with two Glock handguns and it had Chris frowning, he wasn’t sure he understood why he needed to carry weapons if he was some sort of a powerful witch. He shrugged it off as they stepped out the front door and climbed into Stiles’ jeep and headed into town.

 

They met the Winchesters outside of another abandoned warehouse on the wrong side of town. Stiles fired off a quick text message to his dad, alerting him in case there was some sort of backfire and law enforcement was notified before he climbed out of the car. Derek followed, always right next to Stiles’ shoulder while his spine was ramrod straight. 

Dean Winchester nodded at the boys before he spoke, “We tracked it to there, we didn’t want to step on any toes so we called you.”

“Appreciated.” Stiles nodded, “Just a low level demon, nothin’ special?”

Sam shook his head, “Just some sucker thinking he can escape hell.” He turned to Chris, tossed him a black bag, “Put this around the place, leave this door until we are inside, then block it too. Don’t open it until I say so. GO!”

Chris nodded and opened the bag to reveal mountain ash. He jogged around the perimeter of the building sprinkling the ash along the concrete until he came to the door where he waited for Derek and Stiles to walk through before he blocked the door too.

Stiles stayed close to Derek, clinging to his anchor as they walked through the abandoned crates and containers, shadowing the floor of the warehouse. Derek appreciated Stiles’ closeness; he liked it that way, just in case anything went wrong. It made him nervous when they were separated, even just out of eye sight. Derek would never mention it, he knew Stiles felt it too but he wouldn’t dare mention it to anyone outside of the pack because _weakness_. And neither Stiles nor Derek needed to show any weakness.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Stiles taunted, silently pulling a gun from his holster. Stiles looked up and pointed forwards, towards a darkened room in the back of the warehouse. Derek nodded and beta shifted, he had claws and teeth while Stiles had guns and magic. Derek tried to save Stiles the pain of killing but sometimes it never worked out to plan.

As they walked through the door, Stiles raised the gun, aiming it with steady hands at the figure that was hunched over in the corner. He reached down with one hand and pulled a pencil light out of the holster and switched it on, holding it even with his weapon. The figure leapt up and surged forwards, a demented smirk on its face. It was a woman, her hair long and greasy and Derek could immediately see there would be no exorcizing the demon and saving the woman, thanks to the giant gaping wound in her chest.

Stiles fired a shot off, aiming for her head, obviously noting the wound and trying to put the woman out of her misery, but the demon dodged it and caught Stiles by the throat, tossing him back and against the wall. He cushioned his fall with his magic and was immediately back on his feet, firing again. This time he caught her, and the demon screeched and threw her hands out, slamming both Stiles and Derek against opposite walls.

Stiles fought forward, drawing strength from his approaching pack. He could feel them approaching the he leant on them, pulling their strength forwards and into him and he fell off the wall, scrambling for his second weapon while he started murmuring, “ _Exorcizamus tem omnis immundus spiritus_ …”

He ended abruptly when the demon shot out of its host and circled around the room, smoking straight down towards and into Derek, who had suddenly slumped down from the wall onto the floor.

“Oh no no no, that isn’t good,” Stiles needed to get his back up against a wall and get out in a wider space. He needed room to work so he turned on his heel and legged it through the door and into the open. He could see his pack waiting at the opened door, flanked by the Winchesters and Chris, who started forward to sweep the mountain ash aside, when Stiles swept an arm out and pushed him back with his magic, “That is the worst idea in the history of ever…”

He never got to finish his sentence because Derek was on him, expect for it wasn’t Derek. Instead of blue eyes, they were stained black and Stiles started to panic because he couldn’t feel his mate through the bond, it was blank. Not muted or stifled but just gone.

They tumbled to the ground, the demon using Derek’s claws to rake wounds down Stiles stomach, reefing open barely closed wounds and splitting stitches from his last fight. He used brute force to shove Derek back and put some space between them, he tried to bind Derek, tried to wrap his magic around him and hold him still and it worked, long enough for Stiles to shout the first sentence of the exorcism but then the demon wrenched free, tearing through the magic binds and knocking Stiles on his ass with the release of pressure.

Derek was above him now, human again, and he smashed a fist into Stiles’ face, smirking and Jesus, Stiles knew it wasn’t Derek but it was, it was wearing his face. And when the blows kept coming, Stiles tried to push him away, get some space to try and pull out his second weapon. They were wolfsbane bullets with devil traps carved into them, they would hurt Derek, make him unwell but it would save Stiles and Stiles could fix Derek once they were out of here. But he couldn’t Derek was too strong, Stiles had never come up against a werewolf possessed by a demon and if Stiles lived, he hoped he never did again. 

Claws and fist raked down on him and Stiles needed Derek to wake up and fight the demon, he was strong enough, if they could grab hold together maybe they could bind it for long enough to exorcise it because Stiles definitely could not take much more of this beating.

The demon moved back a little, cocking its head to look at its handy work. Stiles took the opportunity to scramble to his knees, he had blood dripping into his eyes and he was sure he had broken ribs and oh my god, he was going to beat the shit out of Derek when they got out of here. He grabbed for the gun in his holster but it was knocked from his hand before he could even aim. He could hear his pack whining and howling, so animal like that he knew they were all in wolf form, roaming the perimeter helpless to do anything about their alphas beating each other within the magical circle.

Peter was still human and Stiles could hear him threatening bodily harm to Chris if he didn’t break the circle but Stiles had given Chris orders and while Chris wasn’t part of the pack, he wasn’t stupid enough to let Derek out into public.

‘ _Parrish, I need you.’_ Stiles sent it through their bond, closing his eyes as Derek approached again.

‘ _I’m here. I’m outside the circle.’_ The reply was nearly missed when Derek cupped a hand around Stiles’ cheek and smashed his head into the wall behind him.

_’Start the exorcism. I can’t take this much longer. It seemed to draw my magic then toss it back at me when I bound it.’_

Stiles was fighting for conscious and he could taste blood but he could hear Parrish start the ritual. It was harder outside the circle, it took more out of the person but Stiles knew Parrish could do it if he drew from the rest of the pack and Covent.

“Derek,” Stiles was dribbling blood now, choking on it and he knew that was a really bad sign. Internal bleeding and punctured lungs and all the rest. He was half sobbing, begging, trying to get passed the demon and through to his mate. “Derek, please.”

His words were punctured by snarls from Derek, he looked feral now with black eyes and a look that would haunt Stiles for the rest of his life, on his face. The demon could feel Parrish trying to send it back to hell, Stiles could feel and hear all the pack murmuring in Latin behind him and finally the beatings stopped, mercifully because everything went black.


End file.
